People of the Wind (2)
With the bikes ready, there was no reason to put off the recruitment interviews any longer.
"We start in two days."
The moment Oscar made that declaration, the official interviews began.
Needless to say, since the applicants came from all corners of the continent, this wasn't going to be something wrapped up in a day or two.
Watching the crowds flood into Shilin like a bursting dam, Oscar moved quickly to keep pace.
"We'll need to send anyone who fails the interview out of the city promptly, so please file the relevant paperwork with the city."
Pedro X, head of the Delivery Department, couldn't quite see the point.
"Does it really have to be that strict? Every meal they eat and every night they sleep here flows straight back into the city's economy."
"Senior, do you happen to know how many applicants have visited Shilin so far?"
"A little over seven thousand, last I heard."
"Then do you know how many people applied for this recruitment round in total?"
"I... wouldn't have a clue?"
Oscar shrugged at that.
"A little over ninety thousand. That's as of this morning, too. There's no telling how many more will come before the interviews are over."
"N-ninety thousand? Don't tell me... you're not actually planning to evaluate all of them?"
"I certainly am."
The Delivery Department was destined to become, alongside the Potion Department, one of the twin engines that would carry the White Tower forward. Which meant, naturally, it had to hire the very best and brightest.
"This is a business. If you staff it carelessly because the hiring process is a bother, disaster follows before you know it."
"But if that many people descend on Shilin at once—"
"The city will grind to a halt. Which is exactly why everyone who finishes their interview needs to be sent out the door as fast as possible."
Oscar had already seen through to the truth: this interview process would be a long campaign. With applicants streaming in from across the continent, it would need to run a good three weeks at minimum.
"For the next three weeks, Senior, you're going to be so busy you won't even have time to sleep."
"......"
Should he have handed over the Delivery Department title back when it was first offered to him?
Pedro gave the question some very serious thought.
The interviews ran for twenty-four days in total.
Over the course of that period, more than 162,000 outsiders passed through Shilin — a number without precedent in the entire twenty-year history of the city.
"...It's finally over."
They say even a dried-out mackerel will give up water if you wring it hard enough. Pedro X's face, already gaunt to begin with, had shrunk by another half.
He was a man of tremendous responsibility, the kind who saw every duty through to the end no matter what. Which is to say, over the past twenty-four days he had endured every hardship there was to endure, and then some.
"Yes. The restructuring of the Delivery Department is complete, so all that's left is to run a live test."
"A live test? Aren't we relaunching the business right away?"
"There may be variables we failed to anticipate. We'll run an internal test within Shilin first, and if nothing goes wrong, we'll roll the service out to the neighboring territories as originally planned."
"Hmm. Fair enough..."
Pedro was nodding along when he seemed to suddenly realize something important, and looked over at Oscar.
"But hold on. You draw up every plan for the business divisions, and you run every one of them too. Do you actually need me around at all?"
"Of course I do. It's because you're here, Senior, that I can throw myself boldly into all these ventures without a worry."
After all, Oscar couldn't personally keep the businesses running forever. Lena White for the Potion Department. Pedro X for the Delivery Department. With those two at the helm, he could devote himself more fully to magic.
No matter how well a magic tower turns a profit, its foundation is still a military force.
The Yellow Tower, the Red Tower, and the Blue Tower may have been masters of making money, but had they lacked high-tier mages, none of them would ever have risen to their current stations. The plan, then, was to get the businesses on a stable footing as quickly as possible and then pour himself into his magical training.
"It's kind of you to say that. Very kind, but..."
Why does it still feel so off?
Unable to bring himself to say those words aloud, Pedro changed the subject instead.
"There are a few things I'm curious about, actually."
"Go ahead and ask."
"I was reviewing the machine's specs, and they're quite different from the documents you gave me earlier. Why did you bother slapping an altitude cap on it? And our bike — the Zephyr-001, officially speaking — could run for days on a single charge, as I understood it. Why downgrade it to needing a recharge every six hours?"
Oscar had been waiting for that question.
Any capable person would have raised an eyebrow at exactly those details.
To answer, he reached for a somewhat deeper topic.
"Everything comes down to the Yellow Tower."
"...The Yellow Tower?"
It was an abrupt pivot, but at the mention of another tower, Pedro's expression turned grave.
"I'd like a little more detail on that."
"Of course. As you know, the Yellow Tower is currently building a train. From what I've gathered, it's a next-generation transport designed to race across the ground and span the entire continent. Even a rough back-of-the-envelope calculation puts its top speed at no less than 170 mph."
"Hold on."
Pedro raised a hand and cut the explanation short.
"I don't know the imperial mile system. Why are you even using an obsolete unit in the first place?"
"...My apologies. Correcting that to 273 kilometers per hour."
Oscar replied with a slight sulk.
Any sixth-level mage is supposed to know the mile system inside and out and use it fluently. What a shame. Back when Oscar was young, there had even been a popular game of converting every measurement into inches, miles, and pounds.
"In short, the Zephyr-001 must not rub the Yellow Tower the wrong way. Am I understanding you correctly?"
"Exactly. The moment they judge that our bike threatens their train, they'll use every means at their disposal to interfere with us. That outcome, above all else, must be avoided."
"Fair enough. We've only just finished restructuring and are finally relaunching — the last thing we need is a brake slammed on us now."
Pedro nodded, and the reasoning fell into place.
"So this was a deliberate downgrade to hide what the machine can really do."
"That's right."
"If that's the case, then we need to tighten internal security as well. Other factions will almost certainly try to make contact with our riders."
"Ah — a very good point. I'll leave that in your hands."
The two men went on exchanging thoughts and opinions late into the night.
And the next day, the long-awaited People of the Wind service finally launched.
Tophre, a reporter at Now You Sirin — one of Shilin's media outlets — did nothing but stare at the clock.
Lunchtime, the second most joyful moment of his workday, was about to begin. The first, for the record, was quitting time.
"Everyone, back after lunch!"
At their boss's call, the staff poured out of the office in a rush.
Once outside the building, Tophre drifted naturally into the back alley.
Tap, tap. Sss—
"...Whew."
As he exhaled twenty cigarettes' worth of sighs to blow his worries away, a friend who worked across the street came sidling up.
"Tophre, what are you having for lunch today?"
"Who knows. Do I even have options?"
As in any city, newspaper work was relentlessly grinding. The lunch break was a measly forty minutes, with no room for an actual proper meal.
"I'll just grab a sandwich from the bakery across the street."
"Sandwich again?"
"There's no time."
Even as he said it, a wave of gloom washed over him.
At some point, Tophre had stopped feeling any joy in his life. It was like being a cog in some vast social machine, spinning endlessly with nowhere to go.
Milk and fruit in the morning because I'm rushing to work, a sandwich at lunch...
And no, dinner wasn't some redeeming feast. By the time he dragged his work-worn body home, he was too exhausted to bother, choking down whatever was convenient before crawling into bed.
"Is this just how adults live?"
"You're an extreme case, even so. That's why newspaper staff turnover is so high, isn't it?"
His friend Oliver, flicking out a cigarette of his own, asked:
"If you haven't got anything in mind, want to come eat in the park? I ordered some food."
"You ordered food? Where's that coming from all of a sudden?"
Wasn't that the kind of thing only for big shots like the newspaper's owner — people who had secretaries to do it for them?
At the question, Oliver slung an arm around his shoulder with a whump!
"Tsk, tsk. A reporter, of all people, this starved for news — how do you keep your job? You knew the White Tower was overhauling its delivery business, right?"
"Of course I knew. The whole city was in an uproar over interviews or whatever until just recently. Hard to miss."
Back then, the streets had been so packed there wasn't an inch of ground to plant a foot, and the commute to and from work had been pure hell.
Truth be told, he had genuinely resented the White Tower for it.
"Well, the White Tower felt sorry for all that hassle, so they're giving Shilin citizens one free order each — for the first use of the service."
"Free service?"
"Yep. People of the Wind — the White Tower's new delivery business, relaunched after their big restructuring."
"Ah, right. That thing."
Tophre had heard the name too.
People of the Wind. The name of the delivery company the White Tower — the same tower that had once folded its delivery business — had put back out there once its internal overhaul was complete.
"But what does that have to do with food? Delivery means letters and parcels, doesn't it?"
"Nope. The new People of the Wind has one extra category. It's called Bullet Delivery."
"Bullet Deliv—"
The moment Tophre opened his mouth to ask what on earth that meant, a shadow fell across both their heads.
Vrrrroooom!
"Whoa! Wh-what the—!"
Hovering above them was a machine of unknown origin.
His first impression: a machine with a body as sleek as a dolphin's. The man piloting it, dressed head to toe in white, dismounted and gave them a nod of greeting through his goggles.
"Good afternoon. Wind Rider delivery. Oliver, is it?"
"Ah, that's me! I ordered two pastas from Number 4 Street — with drinks and fries. Here's the pager."
Oliver handed over the pager he'd received from the order center, and the Wind Rider accepted it with a nod.
"Identity confirmed, pager retrieved. As a first-time customer, your delivery fee is waived. Enjoy your meal."
Handing over the bag of food, the rider swung himself onto the machine with practiced flair and shot back up into the sky.
Tophre, staring blankly after him, murmured:
"Wh-what was that?"
"Let's see. The Zephyr-001, the White Tower's new invention? Something like that."
"A vehicle that flies through the sky..."
Tophre, who spent every day staring at the ground and walking on it, looked up at the sky for the first time in who knew how long.
And he was floored.
Hundreds of machines were sweeping through the air above Shilin at this very moment, moving in flawless formation.
"Don't tell me... all of those...?"
"That's right. Every one of them busy feeding people like me. Or else running Bullet Delivery — ferrying important documents and goods from place to place."
Tophre followed Oliver to a nearby park, and the moment he took a bite of the steaming-hot pasta, he let out a groan of pure delight.
"It's hot, and it's delicious!"
"Well, obviously. It comes straight from the kitchen the second it's finished."
A service that let you eat food like this without ever setting foot in the restaurant itself? And the taste wasn't one whit different from dining in a proper restaurant?
No — if anything, it's even better.
Eating restaurant-only fare outdoors was novel and thrilling in a way he couldn't quite describe.
"Hey — hey! No matter how good it is, what's with inhaling it like that?"
"Sorry. I want to finish and get back to the office. There's an article I want to write."
"Good grief. Nobody could call you anything but a reporter."
Oliver shook his head in exasperation.
But he, too, was thoroughly satisfied with the service People of the Wind provided.
And scenes just like this one were erupting all across Shilin, all at the same time.